Things this weekend that made me laugh

Earlier this week I called miss-dig to locate the utilities in our front yard. We needed to dig a large hole to plant a tree . So, naturally I wanted to make sure we wouldn't hit the gas line and blow ourselves to kingdom-come while digging. I arrived home Friday to find a small herd of children literally having a parade in our front yard. All 10 of them were marching around in a single file line waving tiny orange and blue flags over their heads feverishly. Coincidentally, these are the very flags miss-dig used to mark our utilities. The child leading the parade was riding a bicycle and tooting a whistle. When I was spotted blocking the parade route across my driveway the child at the front let out a long piercing blast on the whistle and motioned for me to move.

Chris and I took the cat to the vet first thing Saturday morning after we found some blood in his litter box. The vet quickly looked him over, and said she needed do a rectal exam to find out what was wrong. Yikes! She quickly assured us that "actually, you are lucky because I have the smallest hands of all three of the vets working today by far." Serioulsy? Ew! Flanked by a vet technician on either side Chris and I watched as they hauled away our 18.5 lb cat. After a few minutes we heard "MEEEEEEEYOWWWWWWWW!" and then utter silence. Poor, poor kitty.

The next project for Saturday was planting the 10 foot tall tree we purchased for our front yard. First we had to dig a gigantic hole in the front yard. Chris and I thought it would go faster if we both dug at the same time but when we leaned forward to shovel dirt out, we banged our heads together. We sat there on the lawn with stars and little birds flying circles around our heads for a few minutes and after that, we decided to take turns digging. The remainder of the weekend was punctuated by going outside to water the tree, then, coming inside, and immediately forgetting the hose was on. Approximately 15 minutes later, one or both of us would remember the now drowning tree in the front yard at which point we would dash outside, sprint across the lake forming at the base of the tree and make a dive for the hose.

Sunday morning, Chris decided to make an omelet. Everything was going fine until it was time to turn the omelet. He began to shake the pan menacingly to and fro. Once the egg was err, loosened, he gave one final shake while he lurched the omelet into the air. In his mind I'm certain he pictured the omelet flipping in midair and gliding back down smoothly into the pan. Here is what actually happened: the wad of egg cheese and vegetable, now airborne, began its rapid descent in a pattern that was clearly not headed for the frying pan. I sat watching, transfixed, the oatmeal spoon halfway to my mouth. The dog and cat appeared from nowhere, ready to eat the eggs that would soon be falling from the sky. Chris lunged foreword to catch his escaping breakfast. He managed to net about half the eggs out of mid air. The remaining eggs hit the stove top, and the dials on the back of the stove, and the tea kettle, and the wall. It was a big omelet.